


Curious Beginnings

by inkouragement



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role Campaign 2 - Fandom
Genre: Character Death Fix, Ep 26&27 spoilers?, Fix-It, Gen, I wrote this to cope, Implied Widomauk, POV Outsider, found family trope, gratuitous zombie imagery, he ded at the start you guys, major character death doesn't occur as an event but like, mollymauk 2: electric boogaloo, the bandits encounter molly's grave, the mighty nein - Freeform, too many oc's - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkouragement/pseuds/inkouragement
Summary: The Syphilis Bandits find Molly's grave on their way to Shady Creek. They honor it out of a last show of respect and also out of fear, but Molly still has a few surprises in store.





	1. No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by whatdourelfeyessee's tumblr post about the bandits accidentally raising molly from the dead  
> I'm probably going to edit this and add a second chapter, but I feel like I should finish the latest episode before I do that (I didn't get a chance to catch the last 2 hrs.)  
> I had a little fun with the OC's, hope y'all like a little dramatic irony because the pov character sure has no clue what's going on.  
> not proofread it is 1:30 am I just want to feel productive

Roland’s hands are sweating in his freshly stolen leather gloves. ‘Freshly’ is perhaps a big word - when he’d put them on this morning they were still damp with the previous owner’s sweat. Still, he’s better off than poor Edu next to him in the wagon, who’d taken quite the beating in the fight after their ambush the day before, and who had received his earnings in silverpieces instead of anything that would help him survive the biting cold. They’ve got no roof covering the wagon, and when he’d asked about that a few of the others had just grumbled and looked away embarrassedly, and he’d stopped pressing the issue. 

He considers sidling up closer to Edu to lend him some body heat, but he thinks better of it. He’s not quite sure the guy would appreciate that, and he’s not ready to be kicked out of the group when he’s only been with them for a week, especially not while they’re out in the middle of fucking nowhere on a road that leads through fucking Shady Creek Run. A light snow begins to fall down from the soft grey skies above the group, and beside him, Edu curses as the first snowflakes touch his skin. Roland’s internal struggle intensifies. Would it be weird to offer? In the end, he settles for lending Edu his gloves. He’s in the middle of taking them off - they’re a little too tight for him and it’s difficult to slide them off without anyone noticing - when Jochem calls out. 

“Halt!,” he yells, obnoxiously loud as always. It’s no good for a bandit to be so fucking loud all the time, at least not in Roland’s humble opinion. It seems a bit stupid to give up your position like that, but then again, maybe Jochem knows more than he does. He’s managed to stay alive for as long as he has, and that’s got to count for something. 

“What is it?,” Wout says. Roland can’t see his face, but he knows Wout is rolling his eyes at Jochem from the front of the wagon, where he’s holding the reigns of the two fat ponies they use as working animals. Now that the wagon’s stopped, Roland stands up and turns around to look at whatever Jochem has spotted.

“There’s a… some kinda flag or a scarecrow or somethin’ beside the road. Lotsa colours. I wanna check it out, maybe it’s worth something.” 

Roland follows Jochem’s gaze to a point a little off the road, not exactly hidden but also not obvious, and strains his eyes. It’s a purple-red blotch that billows in the wind, and when he looks at it a little better he can see that it’s hanging from a wooden pole in the ground. All of the warning bells in his head scream ‘trap, it’s a trap,’ at him, but he’s got no choice but to follow as the rest of the crew get off the wagon and start heading after Jochem, who’s already made a head start in the direction of the purple blob. With a last wistful glance at the relative comfort of the wagon, he runs after them and catches up to walk beside Edu, who is at the back of the group. There are seven of them, but the others have implied there used to be more. He doesn’t quite know what happened - maybe a stick-up gone wrong or a fight between group members that got out of hand - but the ones who were there don’t like to talk about it. None of them have any particular talent for thievery, either. Most are just farmer boys like him, forced to turn to crime for fear of starvation, or in search of adventure. Edu, though. He’s got some kinda magic. Not much, but he can do all kinds of little things that come in handy, like fix broken trinkets they’ve stolen or open lockboxes they don’t have the keys to. Roland really, really wants to learn how to do that, too. 

Jochem scrapes his throat from beside the purple thing, which Roland can now see is a coat which appears to have been made from pieces of about twenty other coats, in colours that can only be described as  _ loud.   _ It looks like something Jochem would probably wear on a stealth mission, he smiles to himself. It’s hard to make out the details of it from where they’re standing, especially with the snowfall, but Roland thinks he sees it glint with gold when the wind moves it. 

“Men!,” Jochem shouts, though they’re all standing only a few feet away from him. Gods, what a bastard.

“And me!,” Agnes corrects him. She’s the sole female member of the group, and the newest addition besides Roland. Roland wouldn’t want to get on her bad side, though. She looks like she used to work ploughing the fields, broad-shouldered and with big, rough hands that could probably fit around his neck and squeeze his throat shut easily. 

Jochem nods at her. “And Agnes. Is any one of you willing to see if that thing is, dunno, cursed or somethin’?” 

It stays deadly quiet. Roland glances over at Edu to see if he’s preparing a spell or whatever it is he does, but his hands are still and he’s glancing sideways at the ground like everyone else is. Even Wout, who usually begrudgingly does what Roland says, stays put. 

“I don’t know, Em,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seems… suspicious, a precious thing like that left out here in the elements. I recognise it from something- maybe it  _ is  _ something cursed. And what’s that at the bottom, on the ground? Looks like a grave to me, six by two, patch of overturned dirt? I think we best leave it and stick with stick-ups ‘fore anything bigger than us puts  _ us  _ six feet under.”

The rest shuffles their feet and murmurs in agreement with Wout. Mo and Gonya exchange glances and say something to each other Roland can’t quite understand, but Jochem clearly can. He huffs, and starts stamping over to the grave. The snow is falling heavily now, and his footsteps already make crisp crunching noises in the small layer on the ground. The shoulder parts of the coat have a little layer on them too, making the thing look like the world’s most ominous and flashy snowman. 

“See!,” Jochem yells over to Mo and Gonya. “ _ I _ am willin’ to take a risk for this crew. I haven’t seen you lot do anything you could call courageous yet, so I don’t wanna hear any-” 

He goes still all of a sudden, taking in the thing from up close, and then goes pale. “This is the- this is what that tiefling bastard wore, all two times they fucked us over,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet. “So that…” he looks down at the patch of dark earth, now covered in a thin layer of white fluff. “Oh.” 

Wout, Gonya and Mo exchange looks of surprise and hurry over, and Agnes, Edu and Roland follow suit, confused. They stand around the grave, staring for a little bit, until a gust of wind blows something off the coat they hadn’t noticed before. Roland reaches and grabs it out of the air, grateful for his quick reflexes. In shaky, blocky handwriting, barely legible from the time it spent exposed to the weather, it says:

 

PROPERTY OF MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF

DO  NOT STEAL - WE WILL COME FOR YOU&FUCK YOUR SHIT UP

SIGNED,

THE MIGHTY NEIN

 

He reads it out loud to them, partly because he thinks it’s kind of a funny note, and also to show off his reading skills. He knows at least two of the others can’t read, and this way at least he’ll show them he’s not just some stupid kid. It does not have the intended effect. 

Jochem goes even paler, and Mo goes from a deep brown to a kind of dark grey colour. Wout’s eyes look like they’re ready to fall out of his head, and the same goes for Gonya. They don’t seem to be all that thrilled about this ‘Mighty Nein’ business, and Roland is starting to worry there is something serious going on.

“Did I say something wrong?,” he asks, and now the four of them are just looking at him. Jochem snatches the note from him and hands it to Wout. Roland counts this as a victory- he’s got something Jochem can’t do.  

“Tell me if it really says Mighty Nein.” 

Wout looks over the note and confirms it, and after a few confused seconds in which they’re all unsure of what to do with themselves, Gonya kneels beside the grave and bows his head, and the rest of them quickly drop down on their knees beside him. Roland is so, so confused. It seems like these Mighty Nein people are pretty powerful- enough to scare the ‘veterans’ of the group, the people who have been in the business for longer than two months, at least, into such a state. It also seems that maybe, and Roland is just wildly guessing at this point, these ‘Nein’ are responsible for the Event no one wants to talk about. Why then, are they treating this corpse with such reverence? If he was an enemy, why mourn him? Edu and Agnes turn away from the scene, granting the group a little privacy, but Roland stays and stares, trying to figure out what is going on from the scattered, disjointed clues he can gather. At first he stares at the coat, but after a few minutes he sees something moving on top of the grave in his peripheral vision. His gaze shoots to the ground, inspecting the mound of earth more closely, and after a few seconds he sees it again. Movement, but not on top of the grave. It’s something pushing up from under the earth, raising and moving the dirt. He tries to say something to alert the others, but all that comes out is a strangled ‘eep’. He stumbles back a few paces and watches as a hand reaches through the dirt, stretching its purple fingers out towards the sky. Five or six rings adorn it, jewels catching the light and glittering, and Roland can’t look anywhere else. He’s transfixed by what is before him, a hand from below the earth, then an arm, then a second hand clawing its way to the surface. He’s heard stories like this told around campfires, about necromancers and beasts from below, the dead rising only to turn on the living, and he feels his heart leaping wildly, his ears ringing with terror. Why is no one else looking at this? Why are Jochem and the other three still kneeling, when between their bowed heads and closed eyes, this  _ thing  _ is freeing itself from the cold, wet earth?

Finally, after a few seconds that take about a week each, Edu and Agnes turn towards him from where they’ve seemingly been quietly talking and spot him staring at the grave as if hypnotised. Agnes follows his gaze and immediately draws her sword. Edu is a little slower on the uptake, looking between him and the grave as if Roland is the one raising the corpse of this Tealeaf person. He almost looks impressed, which would have felt nice if Roland hadn’t been completely overtaken with mortal fear.

He takes out a knife, and holds it an arm’s length in front of him. Agnes is now next to him, and it feels good to have someone at his side who seems to know what they’re doing. He feels a hand grip his arm, and his heart stops for a moment before he realises it’s Edu, standing next to him with his blade out too. They stand for a minute and dazedly watch the purple form crawl upwards, revealing itself inch by inch, before Edu suddenly yells, “Stop praying, assholes!”, and the four who were kneeling scramble to get up, drawing their weapons and looking around as if they think the group is under attack. 

“There,” Edu says, and they instinctively point their weapons at the spot he’s gesturing towards. And so, four blades at his throat and three more at the ready, snow swirling around him and the obnoxious cloak billowing behind him, the body of who Roland is assuming was Mollymauk Tealeaf stumbles out of his grave. He's wrapped in the image of Bahamut the Justice Bringer, but he looks more like a demon, purple and horned and studded with gold that glitters even in the sparse light. He's covered in dirt and thin as a rake- as a skeleton, and a large stain of dried blood marks his chest. No one says anything for a few seconds, and even Jochem is stunned into silence. 

Then, the purple tiefling before them racks violently, doubles over and coughs up a lungful of black dirt, pushes Jochem’s blade aside and then begins to shakily brush himself off. When he gets to his left breast pocket, his hand catches on something. Another note, this one tucked away in his shirt pocket. He unfolds it, hands shaking so violently that he almost drops it, and looks at it helplessly. Still not speaking, he attempts to stuff it in Jochem’s hands, looking at him pleadingly, but Jochem shakes his head in a slack-jawed no. Wout backs away, as do the others. Then, his glowing red eyes find Roland. The tiefling has no pupils or irises, but they get a lighter red towards where his pupils should be, and his gaze of pink light pierces through him. They move towards each other, one tripping over himself and weak-kneed, and the other trembling but growing more confident. If this feeble creature attacks him, Roland is sure his knife will be enough to finish him off. 

Cold hands wrap around his own and tuck the piece of paper in them. Still holding his hands, the tiefling nods insistently. Roland takes a breath, withdraws his hands and reads it aloud. In the same blocky, shaky handwriting it says,

 

MOLLY,

IF YOU EVER READ THIS, FIND THE GENTLEMAN IN ZADASH

WAIT FOR US. WE MISS YOU

YOUR FRIENDS,

~~ THE MIGHTY NEIN ~~

BEAU 

**nott**

_ Caleb  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Molly doesn't quite seem like Molly right now, but cut him some slack, he's just come back to life. God knows I'm not a morning person either. Will he even be Molly, or will he take on a new identity again? Who knows, I least of all me  
> Did the bandits ever get names or identities besides the leader guy the M9 killed? I'm not sure. Let's say these are background characters who continued their life of crime despite getting two second chances. Hardened criminals, these guys.


	2. I'll Crawl Home To Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang adopts Molly, and Molly adopts the gang. Molly gains a few new old friends, and a few old new friends. Am I being cryptic enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Thank you all for the comments and the kudos, it really works to motivate me to write.  
> Chapter titles taken from Hozier's 'Work Song,' by the way
> 
> This one's very long compared to the first chapter, but I didn't want to break it up into two parts. I hope it stays interesting throughout, let me know what you think!

The stranger has been with them for three weeks, and Roland is starting to get a little tired of it. Not a word out if the guy yet, but from the way Jochem and the other three treat him you’d think he was the Emperor himself. They had seemed strangely fixated on getting him a new pair of pants, which Roland hadn't questioned, but when they wanted to dip into the group savings to fix the coat they had gone a step too far. He and Edu had confronted Roland, with Agnes behind them as backup, and Roland had relented. The stranger, Tealeaf, had only stared wide-eyed at the interaction from his spot by the campfire.

Gods, those eyes give him the creeps. Not that he has anything against tieflings in general - he'd grown up with a blue tiefling boy named Ferron, and they’d been _very_ close indeed.  It’s he emptiness in this one’s gaze that’s unsettling, it’s got nothing to do with prejudice. He reminds Roland of how his brother Luka had looked when he came back from the front lines, his legs missing and something in his mind gone, too. Slowly, with great care and love from their mother and the village healer Irma, Luka had started to speak again, and sometimes he even laughed and joked with the rest of them, but he’d never returned to his old self. That’s what Mollymauk Tealeaf looks like, like he’d left his old self buried in the dirt near Shady Creek Run, and now he’s just an empty vessel waiting for a new host. It creeps Roland out like nothing else.

He’s almost like a newborn sometimes in the way he observes things. When they’d come across a dead, broken-winged bird near one of their campsites, he had scooped it up in his clawed fingers, holding it delicately and turning it this way and that way, almost like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with it. He’d gone over to Roland with it, like a cat bringing a gift to its owner, and looked at him as if he’d expected an explanation. Roland took the bird, walked away and threw it in the bushes a good fifty feet from the campsite.

“It’s no good,” he’d told Mollymauk. “Gone. Dead. You understand what that means? Means it’s not coming back, it’s jus’ a husk. Kinda like you, if you think about it.”

Before that moment he hadn’t been sure the tiefling understood Common, or really any language, but from the look in his eyes Roland could tell he got it. He’d looked hurt, the first real emotion Roland had seen him display since his vulnerable moments just after he’d risen. The light points of his eyes where his pupils would have been in a human got duller momentarily, and a stricken look had crossed his face as if Roland had hit him in the face.

Roland feels his stomach twist a little with guilt at the memory. Mollymauk might be a creepy bastard, but if what he’s gone through is anything like what Luka had endured, he’s earned every right to be one.

With all that being said, he’s still not sure why they keep him around. He’s asked Edu if they can confront Wout - who seems the most likely one to spill - together, but chances for a private conversation are scarce and Wout evades any questions about the subject expertly. It annoys him, especially since they’ve even changed destinations for their surprise guest. Instead of going to Shady Creek as planned, they’re now headed in the direction of Zadash to find the mysterious Gentleman. Roland isn’t upset about that by any stretch, having heard some pretty awful stories about Shady Creek and some very good ones about Zadash, but he would like to know why this is so important to Jochem. Directions on a vague note pinned to a dead guy’s chest would not be Roland’s first choice of travel guide, anyway.

Edu sits down in the grass next to him with a lump of hard black bread they took off a travelling farmer two days ago. He takes a piece, shaking off the guilt and trying to enjoy the tasteless mass, or at least not to gag. They’re taking a short break from travel to have lunch and to train a little. They didn’t use to practice fighting much before Mollymauk, but it seems like for some reason Jochem feels the need to show off to him. Roland doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove, but he thinks it might be helping them so he keeps his mouth shut about it. Their latest attempts at robbery have gone much more smoothly than before, and Roland is starting to believe that maybe, crime does pay after all.

Edu and he sit shoulder to shoulder, eating bits of bread and watching Gonya and Mo spar. It’s a casual match, nothing like a fight during a real hold-up, but they’re at least getting some exercise. Edu laughs through a mouthful of bread and cheese and elbows him when Mo falls flat on his ass. Mo’s cheeks turn darker and he smiles embarrassedly when the rest of them burst out into laughter too. Mollymauk, who is sitting a little off to the side and is pulling daisies out of the ground, is the only exception. To his surprise, Roland sees him get up out of the corner of his eye and begin to walk across the clearing towards the sparring duo. Mo has dusted himself off again already, determined to get revenge, and the match has turned into something much more intense, finally appealing to their competitive sides. Mollymauk approaches slowly, sauntering over with what almost seems like an air of confidence. Everyone but the sparring two have now noticed him and are watching intently as he crosses the clearing, ready to intervene. As he walks, he draws his blade, a slender-looking thing, and a wave of surprise rolls over the five of them who are watching - Mollymauk has never even attempted to use his weapons in the weeks he’s travelled with them. They agreed to leave him in the wagon during raids after he’d spent his first fight standing around several few feet away from the action; Roland hasn't even seen the blade unsheathed before. He’s holding his breath, and next to him Edu seems to be doing the same. It’s not that he thinks Mollymauk is violent, but a dead thing that doesn’t speak really shouldn’t be trusted around a blade and an exposed back.

“What do you think you’re doing?,” Jochem bellows. Everyone jumps except Mollymauk, who seems unperturbed by the outburst and taps Mo on the shoulder with a flourish. Mid-swing, Mo stops fighting and stumbles back a little. Mollymauk shakes his head and points at Mo, who looks very confused.

“Sorry mate, ask Jochem if you need anything. I’m a little busy over here,” he pants, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Gonya, who’s also frozen in place. Mollymauk points at Mo again, takes on a fighting stance, and wobbles theatrically. Gonya lets out a surprised chuckle.

“I think he’s saying your stance is ass, and I can’t say I disagree.”

“Oh, fuck off, you,” Mo says, but it’s not very convincing.

Roland doesn’t quite believe his eyes as he watches Mollymauk correct Mo’s stance, pushing and shoving at his limbs until he’s seemingly satisfied. He walks around Mo, inspecting him from all sides, and goes to stand facing him in a mirror image of Mo’s pose. He raises his blade and invites Mo to do the same, and together they go through a few poses. Each time, Mollymauk takes care to show Mo where to distribute his weight, and whenever Mo gets it right he earns a grin and a nod. Gonya looks at the two bemusedly, then shrugs and joins them, earning a huge toothy smile from the Tiefling.

Soon, all of them join their little class. They look sheepishly at each other as they stand in a line facing Mollymauk, and Roland prays to all the gods he knows that no one passes them while they’re doing this. They work themselves into a sweat for about an hour, sparring and practicing stances and ways to roll when you fall, until Mollymauk stops, pats Agnes - his clear favorite, to the annoyance of the rest of the group - on the cheek, and sits down with his daisies again. They watch, dumbfounded, as he twists the flowers into a necklace, paying them no mind, until Jochem starts shouting about packing up and needing to get going, and they dart off to prepare the cart.

 

That night, Roland volunteers to take second watch with Mo. They sit together in companionable silence for about a half hour, Roland staring at the dark treeline absentmindedly and Mo turning a piece of soft wood in his gentle hands and carving it into a crude horse shape. The firelight flickers warm across their faces, and bathes the sleeping forms of their friends in a soft light. Mollymauk is closest to the fire, and all the precious metals woven into his ragged coat and studded into his horns glimmer in time with the flames. He’s woven a few daisies into his hair, which are now starting to shrivel up.

Mo, who seems to have followed Rolands gaze to the curled up tiefling across from them, lets out a low chuckle.

“You’d think he were a babe, sleeping like that. Never knew tieflings could look so innocent,” he says. His dark eyes slide over Mollymauk’s sleeping body, deliberate and thoughtful.

“Did anyone tell you what we know him from?,” he asks.

Roland shakes his head. “I’ve been trying to wrangle it out of Wout, but he seems… embarrassed?”

Mo smiles and ducks his head. “We, uh, we tried to rob him and his crew a few months back. Twice, actually. Went about as far south as things can, as far as ambushes go - the first time, they burned up our leader Trevor ‘till he was just vapors - until that one there,” he points at Mollymauk, “stuck up for us, all two times. It was awful embarrassing.”

Roland takes the information in. Mo doesn’t seem like he’s lying, and it’s easy to see why none of them were eager to tell that particular story, but it’s hard to reconcile the Mollymauk he knows, who doesn’t speak, fight, or do much other than stare, with the person Mo is describing. Maybe what he did during lunch, helping them out with their technique, was a little part of that other person shining through. Roland wouldn’t mind if that side of him came out more often, as the lesson had actually been pretty helpful. The weird empty stare had disappeared for a while after, too, at least until they’d gotten back on the road.

“Mollymauk even took it upon himself to instate a new leader for us,” Mo continues.

“His name was Zenny, ‘n’ he pissed 'imself out of fear the second time we ran across them. That’s kind of why Jochem took over - Zenny left us the next town we reached and last I heard got a job at a tavern somewhere. Anyway, Mollymauk gave us all a single goldpiece, gave Zenny some leather armor, and sent us on our way. His wizard friend threatened to track and kill all of us if we continued thieving, and we damn well believed him at the time, but we haven’t seen a trace of him yet, so we reckon it was all just tall talk.” Mo starts loudly chewing a handful of nuts from a little bag next to him, and Roland waits impatiently for him to continue.

“There was a bunch of them, and all of ‘em looked like fuckin’ weirdos. Call themselves the Mighty Nein, like you read on the notes,” Mo says, with his mouth still full. “This monk woman near cracked Gonya’s skull with her elbow, and they had another tiefling with them, a blue one in a frilly dress, and some kinda orcish-looking type. The first time I thought one of them was a halfling, but turns out it was a fucking goblin. A _goblin,_ how batshit is that?” Mo laughs, and almost chokes on the nuts. “I forgot to mention. The first time we ambushed them, they - get this - they claimed they all had syphilis. 'Extreme syphilis’, the Zemnian guy said.” Mo speaks with a thick Zemnian accent and pulls a serious face when he says that last part. Roland laughs in surprise.

“What? Why would having syphilis help them?”

Mo shrugs. “It sounded pretty disgusting, so none of us wanted to go near 'em. Anyway, that’s why we took him with us. He did us some pretty big favours, so now we’re repaying him. Plus, we were all honestly pretty scared to go to Shady Creek.”

“Me too,” Roland admits. “So, we’re taking him all the way to Zadash? Seems like a lot of effort for someone who helped kill one of your own.”

Mo swallows and closes the bag of nuts without offering Roland any. “I’ve always wanted to see Zadash. What does it matter where we go? 'S long as there’s people to rob on the way there, we should do fine.”

Roland thinks about that for a moment, and it almost makes sense. Good enough for him; as long as he’s got coin in his pocket he’s not going to start complaining. It’s not like he was planning on ever going back home again.

“So, now you know our shameful past,” Mo smiles. “Got a bit weird that you lot didn’t know who our new friend was, but Jochem didn’t want us to tell. And it’s not like Mouthy Molly over here was going to say something, so I figured I had to.”

They sit back and resume their amicable silence. Mo’s horse statue has just tragically lost a leg after a slip with the knife when suddenly, Mollymauk sits up. Mo drops the knife and fumbles to keep a hold of the horse, but Roland calmly nods at him in acknowledgement, hopefully not showing how surprised he is. It feels like he’s been caught gossipping. Mollymauk looks at Mo, then takes out the grimy note in his breast pocket. He holds out the note so they can see it and slides the sharp black fingernail of his index finger over the crossed out words, where it said 'the Mighty Nein’, points at Mo and makes a gesture to indicate speech.

Mo looks baffled as per usual. “You want me to talk about the Mighty Nein? Did you hear us talking?”

He nods yes to both questions, so urgently that the his glowing red eyes become a blur in the dark. A dried daisy flutters to the ground.

“My… friends?,” he says, in a voice hoarse with disuse. Roland and Mo look at each other wide-eyed.

“I… I guess I could… I’ve only seen them while they were beating the shit out of us,” Mo says hesitantly. Mollymauk grins approvingly and shrugs.

“Sound like they would be friends of yours, huh? Alright then, I’ll see what I remember. So, I think the creepy goblin with the mask was called Knot or Naut or something like that...”

Mo spends the rest of their watch dredging up details about the Mighty Nein with Mollymauk hanging onto his every word, absorbing the information the same way dry earth sucks up water after a rainfall. Maybe the dead thing in his gaze was just a lack of hope, because for the first time, Mollymauk’s eyes sparkle as brightly as his clothes.

 

In the following weeks, as they slowly near Zadash, Mollymauk continues to show improvement, and everytime he laughs or speaks or shows any personality at all, Roland almost feels like a proud parent. They’ve taken to calling him Molly for short, and he seems to respond to the nickname well. The lessons continue: every lunch break they train for an hour, and it’s during those sessions that Molly seems to come alive the most. He gains a swagger in his step and an honest-to-the-gods twinkle in his eye when he’s in teacher mode, and while he’s not up there with Jochem yet when it comes to barking out orders, he gets pretty cocky sometimes. He’s taken to patting their cheeks or ruffling their hair when they get something right, and when someone does something stupid or reckless he tuts and shakes his head, sashays over to the offending party and helps them do better. Roland’s only seen him angry once. It was directed at Jochem, who tried out a move he hadn’t mastered yet on an unsuspecting Wout, cutting his arm quite badly. With not enough words at his disposal to chew him out with, Molly had settled for grabbing Jochem and digging his claws into his arm. He’d looked straight into Jochem’s eyes with that piercing red gaze, slowly shaking his head 'no’, and said, "Don’t. Hurt friends.”

Jochem had stammered and flushed bright red, and it had taken everything in Roland to not break out in a satisfied grin. After that he’d decided for certain that, dead or no, he approved of this guy.

 

They reach a tavern in a tiny hamlet by the name of Venlo, the only place that has a tavern for miles, and about a week’s worth of travel from Zadash. For the first time in what must be a lifetime, they’re sleeping in real beds again, which is a godsend for Roland's back. It occurs to him that for Molly it really is the first time in a lifetime he’s slept in a bed, unless you count a grave as a bed. He eyes the thing with suspicion when they show him his room, but taps out about ten seconds after he gets in, coat and all. They leave him to snore and get themselves downstairs, except for Gonya, who doesn’t drink on account of how dizzy he gets from that old head injury. All the rest of them could use a drink or five, and what better opportunity to get wasted than when your adoptive tiefling is fast asleep upstairs?

A stern, redheaded barmaid sets down six huge pints in front of them, and after that, everything turns a little hazy.

 

“Roland!” Edu says it like he’s pleasantly surprised to see him, despite the two of them having sat next to each other for the past two or three hours. “Roland, have I ever told you, have I ever told you, uh,” Edu says. He’s trying to look into Roland’s eyes while simultaneously setting down his keg on the table, sets it down on the edge and spills beer all over the two of them. “Aw, fuck,” he says. “Fuck!,” he repeats, this time yelling it out over the crowd with his arms spread. A few other patrons, a fat old dwarf on the other end of the tavern and a strong-looking human woman in blue at the table next to them, raise their kegs in response and roar “Fuck!” back at him in solidarity. Edu’s face has gone all red and looks indignantly at the beer stains on his pants, and it’s very pretty. Not the stains. Edu’s face is… very pretty.

“What were you… You haven’t told me,” he asks. Edu frowns at him, and then his face lights up like he’s remembering something.

“Oh! You’re, uh, you’re nice. I wanted to tell you I think you’re… really nice,” he says, and there’s a little moment where Roland thinks he’s being pranked, until Edu’s face is suddenly really close, and his lips are on Roland’s, and there’s a rush of warmth and electricity that spreads through him like a dam has broken. “Mphf,” he manages, and kisses back.

“Whoo!,” someone near them yells. He hears clapping, but only from a single person. “Get him!”

They pull apart to see that the person clapping and hooting is the woman in blue from before. She seems pretty far gone, as do her companions at the table, a halfling in a big hood and a dirty, sad-looking human man. He looks back at Edu, who is grinning wildly and even is redder than before, and feels a mirror grin spreading over his own face.

The drunk woman calls them over, gesturing wildly with her arms and hitting her dirty friend, who was just taking a sip, in the back of the head. He spills his drink all over himself, but instead of trying to wipe it off he immediately checks something in his coat. “Beauregard!,” he says irritably. “My books!”

“Fuck your books, dude, I’m trying to make some friends. Doin’ something Fjord would be,” she burps, “proud of.” Without warning, she breaks out into a terrifying, manic grin, and spreads her arms in what is either a welcoming gesture or a 'come at me' motion. “See? Still got it.”

The halfling and the human man exchange nervous glances, but Edu giggles and pulls Roland over to their table, so Roland just goes with it. When they’re sat down, the woman leans forward and whispers conspiratorially.

“Think you could introduce me to your friend over there?,” she asks, pointing at Agnes, who is currently talking to a slender half-elven lady at the bar. Then she mutters something that sounds like ‘step on me,’ but Roland can’t be sure. Edu’s arm is around his waist, warm and very distracting, so he wriggles a little and plants one on Edu before responding to Beauregard.

“I think that can be arranged,” he winks. "I'm Roland. And who are you all?”

“We’re the Mighty Nein,” the halfling says. Her voice is, in one word, _rough._  Beauregard deflates a little at the halfling’s words, and the sad man with the books looks even more dejected than before. There’s something familiar about that phrase, the Mighty Nein, but eight-drinks Roland has no memory of who he was before he arrived at this tavern and shrugs it off.

“Nine?,” Edu says, a little too loudly and leaning forward as if he’s inspecting them. He counts on his fingers. “There’s only three of you!”

“There used to be more,” Book Guy says curtly. “Beauregard, could you take your toys elsewhere? I am not in the mood for this.” He has a thick Zemnian accent, but his Common grammar is flawless. Somewhere in the back of Roland’s mind, a tentative bell begins to ring.

“This happy fellow here is Caleb, and the creepy one is Nott,” Beauregard says. “I’m Beauregard, but call me Beau.” She gives a pointed look to Caleb, who isn’t paying attention anymore. “We're on our way to Zadash to, ah, pick up a friend." Caleb is still ignoring them. "Caleb’s got a huge stick up his ass, don’t mind him," Beau says. Something dark crosses her face, and when she speaks again it’s less of a drunken drawl and more of a snarl. “Y’know, he used to have a _purple_ stick up his ass, but since he didn’t think it was worth it to find a _goddamned cleric_ , he’s had to get a new one.” The look she shoots Caleb is downright murderous, but he doesn’t seem intimidated.

“Fuck you, Beauregard,” he says, and gets up. His hands are shaking and he’s gone pale, and Roland really hopes he’s not about to throw up. He stalks off, and the little halfling towards Edu’s right grabs her face - Roland isn’t sure what he’s seeing, and resolves to never have eight drinks within the span of two hours again - pulls it down and chugs something from a  flask. She gets up and runs after Caleb, expertly weaving through the crowd.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Beau says, her head in her hands. Roland can only stare. Something has hit him, a conclusion piercing through the hazy veil of his drunkenness.

“You’re the Mighty Nein,” he says, staring at Beau. She’s not paying attention to him. “That was- the goblin, and the wizard, and because of you,” he points at Beau, “Gonya gets dizzy!”

She looks confused, but Roland gets up and grabs her by the arm, pulling her with him through the crowd. “Hey, what the fuck!,” she shouts, and tries some kind of move on him, but she seems to be too drunk to pull it off. He takes her upstairs, Edu trailing behind them as if he’s unsure whether he’s welcome to come along or not. Silly of him - Edu is always welcome. Roland steadies himself when they reach the first floor, and leans back against the wall until the hallway stops spinning. Before Beau can recover or say something, he yanks her by the arm again and begins to pulls her towards Molly’s room, before he stumbles and falls over a small person heading towards the stairs. It’s the goblin, Nott. He lets go of Beau’s arm and crouches down in front of her.

“Nott, Nott, I gotta, I gotta show you… The purple stick is here.” He giggles. Molly’s dick isn’t something he’s ever thought about, but suddenly the idea of it seems incredibly hilarious.  “Get your grumpy wizard for me? He needs to see…”

Nott eyes him with suspicion. Her mask is completely off now, so Roland has full view of her mouth full of razor-sharp goblin teeth. Her yellow eyes flash. “How do you know he’s a wizard? I mean, he _is_ , you’re right, he’s a very good wizard and he’s going to do great things, but how do you know? Are you magic too?”

Beau’s flat voice replies, “Nott, stop playing detective and get Caleb. I think I’m starting to sober up - the sooner we can get back to drinking the better.”

 

“Molly!,” Roland shouts, banging on the door to Molly’s room. “Wake up, wake up, you purple bastard! We’ve got company!”

In the same split second in which he says the word ‘Molly,’ all three of his new friends’ heads snap up. Beau stammers, “Did he just say-”, but before she can finish her sentence, a miffed-looking, sleepy tiefling opens the door. The three of them just stare at him, not blinking or moving, just taking in the rumpled form of Mollymauk Tealeaf with wide eyes.

“What,” Molly says. “I’m. Sleeping.” He looks over the five people in front of him with slight surprise and then turns towards Roland and Edu for an explanation. Edu shrugs helplessly.

“Don’t know what’s going on either,” he slurs.

“...Molly,” Nott says. “Is that really you?” She seems just as likely to hug Molly as she is to stab him and run, and Molly takes a step back.

“Uh.” He flicks his tail nervously and taps himself on the chest with his index finger. “Mollymauk.”

Suddenly, Nott is running forward and hugging his legs tightly, sobbing into the fabric of his pants. “We thought you were dead! We were trying to save the others and Lorenzo killed you and we didn’t know what to do, and there was a rude dwarf and a horse woman, and we _buried you,_ it was awful! Beau _cried_ and she robbed your body and I told her, I told her what you said about grumpy people!”

Molly wriggles awkwardly, but Nott’s claws have dug into his pants and she is stuck to him like a cat to a sweater.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says breathlessly. “You are alive. I… Ich…” He stumbles forward and hugs him tight, chest to chest, but only very briefly before standing back again next to Beau, who is trying to hide that she’s crying by ducking behind Caleb’s shoulders. Mollymauk looks startled beyond belief and opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again when he realises he doesn’t know what to say.

Beauregard takes a breath, steps forward around Caleb to hug Molly and nearly steps on Nott, who is still clinging to Molly’s legs. “Mighty Nein,” Beau says, slapping Molly’s back.

“Mighty… Nein?,” he asks, looking at them again with interest this time.

“You are Nott!” He runs his fingers through the goblin’s coarse black hair with realisation. Quickly, as if something has occurred to him, he takes out the note from his pocket. “Caleb? Beau?” He taps his nail on the names as he says them and looks at their faces, utterly helpless. Beau stops pretending she isn’t crying now, and vigorously nods. “You don’t remember us, huh?”

Molly shakes his head, eyes cast downward. Roland grabs Edu’s hand, afraid he’s going to start crying too if he doesn’t have someone to ground him. Edu squeezes it and leans against him, watching the reunion from Roland’s shoulder. Beau and Caleb look at each other, trying to process the new information in their still slightly wasted state. Eventually, Caleb steps out of Molly’s space and speaks. “Do you want...” he pauses, carefully selecting his words. “Do you want to stay with us? You have new friends now, but you must know that you still have a home with us, too. If you want to, you can come back to us.”

Molly frowns and shakes his head. Caleb tries to hide it, but it’s plain to read on his face that he feels utterly destroyed, and Roland almost wants to go over and give him a hug.

“I want,” Molly says, and he reaches over to grab Rolands hand, and then he steps towards Caleb and takes his hand, too. He brings them together, and suddenly Roland is palm to palm with the greasiest guy in all the Empire. “Together.”

Caleb chokes. “I think, we will make this work,” he manages. Nott grins. “If all your new friends are as bad as these two at holding their liquor I’m excited for them to meet my flask!”

Edu practically beams at her. “It’s nice to meet your flask- I mean, you. Rude- I never told you my name. I’m Edu.”

“And I’m Roland,” Roland says. They all shake hands awkwardly, except for Beauregard who’s been trying to take something out of her pocket. Her hands are shaking too much with alcohol and emotion to do it smoothly, but she finally manages to take the thing out - it’s a tarot deck, like the one Roland’s old spinster aunt used to have only nicer, and Beau tries to stuff it in Molly’s hands. “Here, it’s yours,” she says, putting on a brave face. Molly responds just a little too late, and a single card flutters to the ground. It lands right-side up, and the image of a glittering skeleton grins up at them. Roland sees his crone aunt in his mind’s eye, reading his fortune a month before he left home. _“_

 _That’s Death,”_ she’d told him. _“But don’t fret.”_

Caleb, who is stepping forward to stand next to Mollymauk, picks up the card and says the words before Roland can.

“It means new beginnings.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I'm leaving the rest of the bandits' reactions to yet more Mighty Nein members up to the imagination...


End file.
